De Gaulliver's Travels

La grande visite was at hand --Charles de Gaulle's much-heralded expedition to Latin America, a 27-day good-will tour covering 20,000 miles and ten nations. Paris papers hailed his "delirious welcome," and one writer even ventured to call him "our national conquistador." He was hardly that. The imposing old soldier was greeted with warmth, admiration, affection. Flattered Latin Americans listened with interest to his subtle talk of common origins and suggestions of a broad, transatlantic Latin bond. But it was clear that any dreams of a Latin Third Force -- directed from Paris -- were only dreams.

Masters & Men. The tone was set at the first stop in Caracas, Venezuela. Stepping from his French-made Caravelle jetliner, boarded in Guadeloupe after his crossing in a Boeing 707, De Gaulle shook hands with President Raul Leoni and was whisked into downtown Caracas. Some 60,000 people packed the sidewalks, holding small French and Venezuelan flags as De Gaulle stood nodding and smiling, acknowledging the vivas. Taking no chances of an untoward incident, either by Venezuela's pro-Communist terrorists or the handful of vengeful French exiles in Latin America, the government posted 20,000 troops, police and security agents around the city; helicopters whirred FABRY overhead, and sentries dotted the rooftops along the illustrious visitor's route. In 30 hectic hours, De Gaulle made no fewer than nine public appearances; with remarkable stamina for a man of 73, he visited the tomb of Simon Bolivar, spoke before members of Congress, accepted Venezuela's gold-chained Order of the Liberator, and bestowed the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor on Leoni.

In glowing terms, De Gaulle spoke of all that France could do for Venezuela--"by opening the doors of her universities, by sending her technicians, by encouraging investments in a country like this." Then he came to the hard part, a scarcely veiled reference to U.S. "hegemony" in Latin America. "We Frenchmen," he told a group of businessmen and farm leaders, "believe that from the points of view of economy, politics, influence and power, Latin America is an essential factor in a world which must regain an equilibrium. You are masters in your own house, and we wish that you remain so."

In private talks, Leoni made it clear that the major disequilibrium concerning him was Communist subversion around the hemisphere, and that Venezuela is disturbed by French trade with Cuba. The joint communique was limited to bland assurances of mutual esteem and wishes for world peace. French loans for Venezuelan development? There was little talk of that. "They need experts more than money," sniffed one high-ranking Gaullist.

Proud & Explicit. On down the western spine of South America De Gaulle traveled, seeing the same enormous, tightly policed crowds, plowing doggedly through the same man-killing schedule, everywhere voicing France's deep interest in Latin American "independence"--and receiving the same polite response. Colombia was supposed to be a high point of the trip. Its aristocracy is oriented toward Europe. But trade with France amounts to less than $17 million a year v. $500 million with the U.S., and the country's leaders are nothing if not realistic.

"I want to be explicit in my position regarding the U.S.," said Colombia's President Guillermo Leon Valencia at a state dinner. "Colombia has been, is, and will remain the companion, ally and friend of the U.S., and as President of the republic I am proud to declare it on this historic night." De Gaulle's reply was muted: "We wish to strengthen and extend the ties that bind us to Colombia."

And so it went. In Quito, Ecuador, the thin, 9,300-ft. atmosphere was warmed for De Gaulle by cheering crowds thronging sidewalks, balconies, rooftops, throwing flower petals and confetti. When De Gaulle stepped out on the balcony of the National Palace, some 20,000 jammed the plaza below, and a charmed De Gaulle charmed his audience by making his first public speech in Spanish. But Rear Admiral Ramon Castro Jijon, chief of the country's ruling junta, went out of his way to explain Ecuador's "ties to the U.S.. in the Organization of American States." Peru's Fernando Belaunde Terry (see p. 71), who had studied in Paris and returned an admirer of most things French, opinion," was he even told more blunt. "In my opinion," he told newsmen in Lima. "A union between European and South American nations based on Latinity would be primarily sentimental because Latinity is primarily sentimental."

Long Ago & Far Away. "What happening," insisted one French official, "corresponds closley to what we expected -- a warm welcome." Indeed, De Gaulle was in his element. Whether visiting Peru's Pantheon of Heroes or accepting Venezuela's Order of the Liberator, he plucked a chord that Latin masses respond to -- he was the military strongman, the history-minded hero. Yet, like many Europeans, De Gaulle may have overestimated Latin America's anti-Yanqui feelings and underestimated its sense of hemispheric community with the U.S. As for France, for all the cheers it sometimes seemed long ago and far away. A Colombian Cabinet minister put it succinctly: "All we can expect from France," he said, "is grandeur."

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